


Let it Flow

by IAmANonnieMouse



Series: Snake Eyes [3]
Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: M/M, MurderHusbands, Non-Graphic Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-20
Updated: 2019-03-20
Packaged: 2019-11-25 23:26:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18172835
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IAmANonnieMouse/pseuds/IAmANonnieMouse
Summary: And let it flow, this crueltyOf youth as you fall again





	Let it Flow

**Author's Note:**

> Here's more MurderHusbands for you all! Enjoy!
> 
> (And yes, please do read parts 1 and 2 before this one, or else you will be very, very confused)

Eames lives in syncopation. It drives Arthur crazy.

Eames works, _hurry, hurry-then-slow, hurry_. Arthur thinks, Where did you learn to count?

They're travelling—not running, quickly walking—across countries, across oceans. Eames says that's what happens when you break your murderous boyfriend out of prison.

Murderous is oversimplifying what Arthur does, just a bit. 

Arthur's brain stutter-stops. Backs-up. Syncopated.

 _Boyfriend._

That's new. 

Maybe that's what happens when you set someone free. You keep them.

Arthur disagrees. He's nobody's but his own.

 

Their first night free, Eames pulls Arthur close, brands his words into Arthur's skin.

"How I've missed you, my sly little snake."

Arthur's missed him, too.

It's a seedy motel in the middle of nowhere. Arthur gets lost in Eames, presses his face into the cheap comforter, gives Eames his back.

Eames runs soft lips down the curve of Arthur's spine, the heat of his breath a furnace. Arthur's breath whistles through his lungs—hurry, hurry-then-slow, hurry.

Arthur missed him.

 

Arthur makes the morning headlines. _Serial Killer Viper Escapes!_

Eames primps and preens. "A thief never shares his secrets," he says, eyes glittering.

 

They pause in Istanbul. Eames darts around, restocks their provisions. He winks, leers, blows kisses on his way out the door. 

Arthur decides to work.

It's comforting, falling back into that familiar rhythm. One, two, three, one, two three. _Snap, crack, pop._

It's over too soon, shorter than usual. Either Arthur's getting hasty, or they're growing weak.

Arthur considers bringing something back for Eames, but no—they're still traveling, quickly walking around the world. It wouldn't keep.

Arthur buys him some Rice Krispies instead.

Eames brings him bleach for his clothes. It's perfect—Arthur got a bit overexcited getting back to work. 

Eames pins him against the bathroom sink, traces his eyes. They leave Arthur's clothes in the bleach too long, but it's fine. Arthur has plenty.

 

They do laps around the world, cross items off their bucket lists, pause to restock and work.

Arthur could get used to this. Except Eames crowds closer now, runs thief's hands over Arthur's shoulders, arms, face. Arthur bites back instinct: slice and dice, get away, eliminate the threat.

It isn't easy.

"My viper in the nest," Eames says. Arthur's hackles rise. 

He's not. He's not another person Eames can steal.

Arthur doesn't know why Eames set him free. 

There's another country, and another hotel.

Arthur thinks: 

Eames didn't free him. Eames stole him.

 

Canada is temptation. Home is close, so close Arthur can almost taste it. They stay longer than they should, enjoy calm days and quiet nights. 

Arthur's restless. He can almost taste it.

 

There's a box in Eames' suitcase, locked and loaded, but Arthur has a key. Inside are papers, pink and green and white. Arthur takes what he needs, puts back the rest.

Eames is asleep, arms outstretched.

Arthur arrives at the border before dawn, hands the woman his papers.

On the other side, he pauses and smiles. He's almost home. 

He can almost taste it.


End file.
